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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25139611">The Game's Afoot</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daylight_Anthropologist/pseuds/Daylight_Anthropologist'>Daylight_Anthropologist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dracula - Bram Stoker, Frankenstein - Mary Shelley, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, The War of the Worlds - H. G. Wells</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Victorian Literature Crossover</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:01:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,183</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25139611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daylight_Anthropologist/pseuds/Daylight_Anthropologist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lord of Vampires stands triumphant, and the last heroes in London stand against him. The Great Detective, the Schoomistress, and the Alchemical man are all that lay between the bloodsucking fiend and his endgame.</p><p>A short scene I wrote as part of a short lived idea to rewrite the MCU as a Victorian Literature Crossover.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Game's Afoot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A couple of instances of foul language are presented herein—which—in the spirit of the source material, I warn of, in case of readers who of a sensitive disposition.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Central London was a pockmarked battlefield. The Tripods formed a wall—an honest to God wall—across the horizon. Somewhere, dim in the back of her mind, Mina knew they were metal shells. The invaders were creatures like the Count, tiny weak flesh and blood things that hid in their war machines, but looking on them, tentacles writhing they might have been creatures from the deepest parts of the ocean or the nightmares of a madman.</p><p>            The Count stood before them, clad in plates of the same impenetrable brass colored metal. He flashed his fangs at Mina and her companions. The wounds on her neck burned. On her left Adam rolled his massive shoulders. His sallow face was set in a feral grimace.</p><p>            “Let’s kill him properly this time.”</p><p>            Mina hefted John’s curved knife in her hand. The three of them <em>could</em> do it. They had strength and speed. All they had to do was sever the head from the shoulders and maybe with him gone, the Tripods would follow suit.</p><p>            Ash rained down and Mina knew it was folly. Even if they defeated Dracula there was no defeating his army, and there was no getting close to Dracula with his Tripods watching. It was over. They were alone. The schoolmistress with the neck wound. The Alchemical Man. The Great Detective.</p><p>            “It has been many centuries since I knew the thrill of conquest.” Dracula’s voice carried across the no man’s land that separated them. “Thank you for reminding me of my greatest joy.”</p><p>            Mina started forward and the others followed in lock step. The guns on the Tripods hummed and started to glow. Maybe Adam would make it through. If just one of them got to Dracula it would be alright. Holmes limped beside her. The only mortal man among them. His friend’s sword cane gripped tight in his fist. The guns came about. Mina felt the hairs on her neck stand up. The air tasted like copper. This was it. Dead before they even struck a blow. Still they marched.</p><p>            Dracula raised his fist and the glow of the Martian cannons dimmed ever so slightly. There was a tremor, and, though Mina might have imagined it, the Lord of Vampires looked scared. The ground cracked between them and a mass of stone rose to just about waist height. The sun, still blotted out by the clouds of smoke, seemed to shine upon it all the same. A sword, in the Roman style, stuck up from the rock.</p><p>            Mina looked to Holmes. “Is it…?”</p><p>            The man who was never surprised looked shocked. “The hour of greatest need” he whispered. “But no Arthur to wield it.”</p><p>            When the ground had settled Dracula’s eyes fell on the sword. His thin, crimson lips split into a wicked sneer.</p><p>            “No savior? Your legends betray you.” He raised his arms. “Come, strike me down if you dare.”</p><p>            “Sod it” Mina felt her incisors threaten to burst and grow into real fangs. “Let’s end the fucker.”</p><p>            The three of them broke into a run. Mina’s legs carried her with the swiftness of the dead. She reached the count first and slashed at the Count’s head with Johnathan’s Kukri. The Count bent at the middle, pulling his upper body out of the path of the blade, which whistled harmlessly through the air. Still Mina pressed on. She fought with the speed and ferocity the Count had granted her when he tried to steal her soul. Slowly, inch by inch, the Count gave ground.</p><p>            Then it was Adam’s turn. The Alchemical Man, last son of the House of Frankenstein swung his powerful arms at the Count, pummeling him to a degree that no mortal man could survive. But the count was not mortal. He took the blows, barely moving under the weight of Adam’s fists until…as Adam slowed, the Count lashed out and caught his arm. Using Adam’s own momentum against him he flung Adam through the air. The giant’s body sailed over no man’s land, landing in a heap at the base of the stone.</p><p>            That was when Mina saw <em>him</em>. Broken and bloody, dark hair falling all across his grease streaked face. He looked like a great bird of prey that had been mangled after colliding with a mountain side. He clambered onto the rock and wrapped his spindly fingers around the hilt of the Roman sword. Dracula’s sneer faded and the ice in Mina’s veins began to crack.</p><p>            There was no rage on the Great Detective’s face, no grin of triumph. He was all grim serenity. Mina doubted he even realized what pulling the sword meant. He was a knight, and there was sword and a dragon to be slain. As the blade slid from the stone Holmes’ body began to straighten. The wounds looked less severe. The limp was gone as he leaped off the stone. He pulled Adam to his feet and joined Mina before the count.</p><p>            Now Dracula looked properly pissed. He drew his own sword from its scabbard and snarled like an animal.</p><p>            “Your flayed skins will be my tapestries. Your blood will fill the moat of my stronghold. Your—”</p><p>Something crackled in Mina’s ear. It was the radio device Challenger had built to communicate with them…so long ago, before the tripods had landed, before Dracula had secured his victory.</p><p>            <em>“Misses Harker.” </em>Mina’s breath caught in her throat. It couldn’t be. <em>“Sorry we’re late.”</em></p><p>            The clouds parted and Mina’s heart soared. There was a wall—not of Tripods but of familiar faces. It was…It was everyone. Challenger marched at their head, clutching the device of brass and wire that he had said would scramble men’s bodies, discorporating them so they might travel great distances in the blink of an eye. Behind him two Thunder Lizards roared, feathers bristling. Mina caught site of Challenger’s daughter and the reporter Malone on saddles atop the beasts. More mounts crested the hill, elephants in elaborate armor, and the boy from the jungle, Mowgli astride the head of herd. Lord Roxton and an assortment of soldiers, brandishing shiny brass rifles, Challenger’s designs. Loveday Brooke, Lestrade, Hopkins, and the women of Scotland Yard. The Doll Woman. The Egyptian witch. Then, atop white steeds—Mina’s heart soared—Johnathan, Arthur, Seward, and Quincey. Behind them Van Helsing, Carnacki, and Dr. Silence. Lucy, dark haired and pale skinned, flanked by two other vampire women, the Karnsteins. The Warriors of Maple White Land and the Emerald Army of the Otherworld formed ranks. A Tripod moved too close and one of the Thunder Lizards took its leg in its jaws and wrenched the thing to the ground.</p><p>            “Sorry we’re late” Dr. Watson called from beside Challenger. “Had a devil of a time gathering the cavalry.”</p><p>            Holmes’ face melted at the site of his friend. Mina clapped him on the shoulder. Dracula’s face shook with rage and—Mina was sure this time—fear.</p><p>            Mina flashed her fangs. “The game’s afoot.”</p><p>            Adam pumped his fists. “Follow your spirit, and upon this charge—”</p><p>            Holmes raised the sword. “Cry God for Harry, England and Saint George.”</p><p> </p>
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